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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MONOGRAM 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG. 


MONOGRAM 


OUR   NATIONAL  SONG 


REV.  ELIAS  NASON,  M.A. 


CONDI8CE   MODOS,   AMANDA 

VOCE  QUOS  REDDA8  :   MINUENTUR  ATRAE 

CARMINE  CURAE.    Horace,  Car.,  lib.  iv,  car.  xi. 


'  I  KNEW  A  VEUY   WISE  MAN  THAT    BELIEVED  THAT    IF  A  MAN  WERE 
PERMITTED  TO  MAKE  ALL  TIIE  BALLADS,  HE  NEED  NOT  CARE  WHO 

SHOULD  MAKE  THE  LAWS  OF  A  NATION."     Andrew  Fletchtr. 


ALBANY: 

JOEL     MUNSELL. 
1869. 


A   MONOGRAM 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG. 


I.  OF  THE  MINISTRY  AND  POWER  OF    Music. 

"  Be  sure  there's  something  coldly  wrong 
About  the  heart  that  does  not  glow 
To  hear  its  own,  its  native  song." 

Music  is  a  mysterious  agent  chiming  grandly 
into  this  world's  magnificent  drama  and  im- 
parting something  of  life  and  splendor  to  its  ever 
shifting  scenes.  The  universe  itself,  which  for 
its  harmony1  the  Greeks  denominated  xoapog  — 
beauty,  is  but  a  royal  harp — bird-strings,  wind- 
strings,  star-strings,  swept  by  the  invisible  fin- 
gers of  the  illustrious  Composer  himself,  and 
throwing  up  sparkles  of  spray  from  the  vast 
tone-ocean,  rolling  far  beyond,  to  cheer  the 


1  Plato  asserts  that  the  soul  of  the  world  is  conjoined  with 
musical  proportion ;  Sir  Isaac  Newton  held  that  the  princi- 
ples of  harmony  pervade  the  universe,  adducing  as  a  proof 
2 


6  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

heart  of  man  and  give  him  some  bright  earnest 
of  felicities  to  come.  The  grand  Master  of 
music  is  ever  sending  forth  his  bold  anthems 
from  the  echoing  mountains  over  which  the 
pealing  thunder  breaks;  from  the  woodlands 
rocked  by  tempests;  from  the  ever-heaving 
sea;  — he  softens  these  wild  symphonies  by  the 
gentle  song  of  the  nightingale,  the  whispering 
of  the  reeds  and  the  dying  cadences  of  the 
evening  breeze ;  — he  also  gives  man  power  to 
mingle  in  the  general  concert,  with  his  own 
sweet  strains  of  vocal  or  of  instrumental  music, 
and  thus  by  the  ministry  of  art  enhance  the 
common  song. 

From  the  inexhaustible  fountain  of  music  he 
permits  us  to  draw  special  strains  for  special 
ends ;  and  these  sometimes  steal  into  the  inte- 
rior kingdom  of  the  soul  with  power  almost 
irresistible,  unlock  the  cells  of  memory  and 


of  this   the  analogy  subsisting  between  color   and  sound. 
So  Shakespeare  says :  [Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  V,  Scene  1.] 

"  There's  not  the  smallest  orb  which  thou  beholdest, 
But  in  his  motion  like  an  angel  sings, 
Still  choiring  to  the  young-eyed  cherubims; 
Such  harmony  is  in  immortal  souls ; 
But  whilst  this  muddy  vesture  of  decay 
Doth  grossly  close  it  in,  we  cannot  hear  it." 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  7 

perform  angelic  marvels  for  the  way-worn  and 
the  weary. 

Now  a  touch  of  some  cunning  harper  summons 
wandering  reason  to  its  throne ;  now  an  Italian 
Tarantella,  quick  and  joyous,  allays  the  poison 
of  a  viper's  sting;  now  a  captive's  plaintive 
melody  melts  a  tyrant  into  tears  and  moves 
him  to  unbind  the  chains  of  slavery ;  now  some 
Ranz  des  Vaches1  from  Alpine  horn  makes 
the  poor  Swiss  soldier  pant  and  die  for  home ; 
now  a  battle  march  or  pibroch  from  a  Highland 
bagpipe  turns  the  tide  of  war,  and  now  a  Mar- 
seillaise, uprising  as  the  swell  of  ocean,  from  a 
hundred  thousand  sons  of  liberty  shakes  a 
throne  and  shapes  the  destiny  of  an  empire. 

We  underrate,  I  apprehend,  the  power  of 
patriotic  song.  That  Marseillaise  was  called  by 
Lamartine,  the  firewater  of  the  old  French 
revolution.  It  has  several  times  been  banished 


rAirs  played  on  a  long  trumpet  called  the  alp-horn  by  the 
mountaineers  of  Switzerland.  J.  J.  Rousseau  relates  that 
these  strains  were  so  dear  to  the  Swiss  in  the  French  armies 
that  the  bauds  were  forbidden  to  play  them  under  penalty 
of  death,  since  they  caused  the  Helvetians  to  desert  or  die 
of  what  they  called  la  mal<xli<  </"  />",'/s. — Moore's  Cyc.  Music, 
in  loco. 


8  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

from  the  kingdom  as  an  institution  quite  too 
strong  for  kings  manage ;  and  in  the  late  up- 
heaving of  the  masses  in  our  own  beloved  land, 
I  sometimes  thought  the  grand  old  patriotic 
peal  of  Hail  Columbia,  the  heart  thrilling  war 
song  of  the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  exercised  a 
mightier  sway  than  any  other  single  cause 
whatever.  The  name  of  our  illustrious  leader 
acted  as  a  charmed  spell ;  the  favoring  smiles 
of  beauty  sent  electric  energy  through  the  sol- 
dier's heart ;  the  stars  and  stripes  still  fanned 
the  sacred  flame ;  but  the  rousing  notes  of  our 
national  patriotic  music — whether  rising  from 
the  mighty  congregation — organs  and  voices 
joining,  or  from  the  black  war-ship  on  the 
moon-lit  ocean,  or  from  the  screaming  fife  and 
pealing  drum  upon  the  tented  field,  struck 
deeper  chords  and  moved  to  nobler  daring. 
Hence  the  leaders  of  the  late  rebellion  were 
compelled  to  ostracize  our  national  songs  in 
order  to  keep  their  cause  in  countenance  with 
the  people.  Yankee  Doodle  must  be  silenced 
ere  the  brave  old  flag  could  be  cut  down.  So 
long  as  its  rich,  rolicksome  notes  came  rolling 
out,  the  stars  and  stripes  must  float. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG. 


II.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  POWER  OF  PATRIOTIC 
SONG. 

1.  Were  we  to  ask  the  secret  of  this  tran- 
scendent power  of  patriotic  song,  I  think  it 
would  be  found  consisting  mainly  in  the  prin- 
ciple of  association  of  ideas  —  of  ideas  so  com- 
pletely correlated  that  the  latter  of  necessity 
brings  up  a  long  and  brilliant  train  which,  in 
the  hallowed  glow  of  feeling  music  only  can 
impart,  come  trooping  in  upon  the  mind  with  a 
redoubled  strength  and  splendor. 

A  patriotic  song  is  an  enchanted  key  to  me- 
mory's deepest  cells ;  it  touches  secret  springs, 
it  kindles  sacred  flames  in  chambers  of  the  soul 
unvisited  by  other  agencies.  It  wakes  to  life 
ten  thousand  slumbering  chords  and  makes 
them  thrill  and  pulsate — just  as  if  some  loving 
angel's  finger  touched  them — to  the  grand  God- 
given  sentiment  of  liberty. 

A  patriotic  song,  like  the  enchanter's  magic 
wand,  calls  up  the  honored  forms  from 
"  Fame's  eternal  camping  ground  ;  " 


10  A  MONOGRAM  0> 

it  makes  the  immortal  patriots  live  and  breathe 
again ;  reveals  the  long  lines  of  gleaming  bayo- 
nets on  the  battle-field ;  renews  the  headlong 
charge  of  the  impetuous  cavalry ;  repeats  again 
the  wild  huzza  of  the  invincible  phalanx  of  the 
infantry;  makes  us  hear  once  more  the  exult- 
ing scream  of  victory,  and  points  our  moistened 
eye  to  the  torn  and  bloodied  flag  still  fluttering 
in  the  breeze,  and  to  the  nation,  rocked  by  the 
scathing  tempest,  righting  itself  once  more  be- 
neath the  rainbow  of  enchanting  peace  flung 
sweetly  over  it. 

We  hear  a  patriotic  song  in  boyhood  from 
the  lips  of  an  honored  sire  who  has  filled  our 
greedy  ear  with  the  wild  adventures  of  his  old 
campaigns ;  we  listen  to  the  rousing  strain  on 
some  cold  winter  evening  by  the  ample  hearth- 
stone—  the  rude  queen's  arm  with  battered 
stock,  still  hanging  in  its  leathern  loop  above 
the  mantle  piece  —  we  hear  the  grand  old  sto- 
ries and  each  note  of  music  then  becomes  a 
chain  of  gold  linked  with  the  deeds  of  heroes  — 
Adams,  Warren,  Schuyler,  Washington. 

We  hear  the  song  again  in  riper  years — it 
opens  the  flood-gates  of  patriotic  feeling,  and 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  H 

gilds  it  with  the  sunniest  dreams  of  our  young, 
bounding  life. 

The  nation  in  its  glory,  with  its  imposing 
cavalcade  of  illustrissimi,  marches  along  before 
the  eye  of  finest  fancy,  and  rises  heaven-crowned 
to  its  magnificent  destiny ! 

2.  Again,  a  patriotic  song,  as  the  old  Mar- 
seillaise, is  the  embodiment  of  a  nation's  grand- 
est thought.  .  It  ever  springs,  Minerva-like,  out 
of  some  dreadful  exigence.  It  is  a  child  of 
agony  —  but  still  a  child  of  liberty  —  a  rain- 
bow on  the  darkest  fold  of  the  terrific  storm ! 

When  Rouget  de  1'Isle l  in  winter  poverty 
struck  from  the  broken  strings  of  his  crushed 
heart  the  electrifying  dithyrambics  of  the  Mar- 
seillaise, that  heart  was  France.  What  his 
whole  bleeding  country  felt,  that  single  soldier 
felt;  and  with  more  of  truth  than  of  the  pom- 
pous Louis  Quatorze,  it  could  be  said  of  that 
young  brave  —  T/ie  kingdom  it  was  he  ! 


1  Joseph  Rouget  de  1'Isle,  born  1760,  received  a  pension 
of  1500  francs  per  annum  for  the  composition  of  the  words 
of  the  Marseillaise.  The  song  was  first  sung  by  the  Mar- 
seilles confederates,  or  Girondists,  in  1792.  It  was  sup- 
pressed by  the  Bourbons,  but  came  up  again  in  1830,  and 
has  since  been  one  of  the  national  hymns  of  France. 


12  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Money,  some  years  ago,  was  offered  for  a 
national  hymn.  Futility !  money  may  buy 
machinery  —  sometimes  in  the  form  of  men  — 
but  inspiration,  never ! l 

The  very  sentiment  of  a  national  song  is  the 
grand  idea  of  the  liberty-loving  people  —  the 
words  are  from  the  burning  heart  of  the  nation 
itself —  God  speaking  through  it  —  they  are 
the  synthetic  expression'  of  the  politics  of  the 
nation  —  they  are  the  golden  censer  that  en- 
shrines the  hopes  of  the  nation.  They  hence 
become  the  living  tongue  of  the  nation,  the 
leader  of  the  nation,  the  guardian  angel  of  the 
nation. 

From  the  very  spirit  then  in  which  they  are 
conceived;  from  the  very  truths  which  they 
enunciate,  as  well  as  from  the  associations  which 
they  awaken,  they  become  eloquent  preachers 
in  every  crusade  against  oppression  —  engines 
mightier  than  the  rifled  cannon  —  because  be- 
hind the  rifle  cannon  for  defending  liberty. 

As  they  spring,  electric  flashes,  from  the 
heart  of  a  nation,  so  are  they  in  turn  winged 


1  In  the  spring  of  1861,  a  committee  of  gentlemen  of  New 
York  offered  the  sum  of  $500  for  the  best  national  hymn 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  13 

with  such  power  to  reenkindle  the  heart  of  a 
nation,  and  while  true  music,  always  of  itself 
awakens  thoughts  of  the  invisible,  the  spiritual 
and  the  grand,  so  being  allied  to  words  that 
breathe  as  heard  in  our  great  national  anthems — 
it  in  union  aids  to  swell  the  tide  of  patriotic 
emotion  till  it  surges  over  the  barriers  to  human 
progress  and  leaves  the  constellated  stars  of  free- 
dom shining  in  unclouded  radiance  over  us. 


III.  BUT  LITTLE  Music  IN  THE  OLD  COLONIAL 
TIMES. 

1.  I  have  intimated  that  a  great  national 
song  is  the  offspring  of  a  great  national  emotion ; 
hence  we  could  hardly  look  for  any  remarkable 
patriotic  hymn  in  this  country  anterior  to  the 
revolution. 

Our  forefathers  were  too  busy  to  be  musical ; 
too  sedate  to  listen  to  secular  songs ;  too  dis- 


adapted  to  the  then  existing  condition  of  the  country.  Some- 
thing like  twelve  hundred  competitors  presented  lyrical 
pieces,  but  not  one  of  them  was  deemed  of  sufficient  merit 
to  claim  the  prize. 

3 


14  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

tinct  in  race  and  government  to  be  inspired  by 
the  same  living,  fostering,  patriotic  thought. 
God  was  their  commander ;  the  songs  they  sang 
were  in  the  main  addressed  to  him;  and,  if 
sometimes  a  secular  ditty  was  heard  to  break 
the  dull  monotony  of  the  spinning  wheel  of  a 
winter's  evening,  it  was  in  some  mournful  minor 
key,  as 

"  My  name  was  Robert  Kidd  ' 
And  so  wickedly  I  did ; 
God's  laws  I  did  forbid 
As  I  sailed,  as  I  sailed." 

or 

Lord  Bateman,  he  was  a  noble  lord, 
A  lord  of  high  degree. 

or  of  the  Cruel  Barbara  Allen.2 

Such  wild  songs  as  the  Maypole  of  Merrie 
Mount;  Begone  dull  Care;  Betty  Martin  (from 
0!  milii  beati  Martini)  ; 

Old  Adam  was  caused  to  slumber, 
A  rib  taken  out  of  his  side ; 

being  heard  only  in  those  Bacchanalian  revels 


1  Executed  May  9th,  1701.  See  Cooper's  History  of  the 
Navy,  vol.  I,  p.  25. 

~  This  is  an  ancient  Scottish  ballad  inserted  in  Allan 
Ramsay's  Tea  Table  Miscellany.  Sir  W.  Scott's  Remarks 
on  Popular  Poetry. 


QUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  15 

which  the  bar-room  of  colonial  times  would 
sometimes  witness. 

Even  the  revolution  itself  did  not  produce 
any  very  creditable  patriotic  song.  The  famous 
semi-sacred  psalms  of  Chester  and  Columbia,  by 
that  famous  Boston  tanner  and  musician,  Wil- 
liam Billings,1  over  whose  sign-board  .some  one 
hung  a  couple  of  contending  cats  to  indicate 
the  music  which  he  made,  were  the  favorite 
camp  songs  of  that  day. 

2.   Oen.  James  Wblfes  Song. 

The  earliest  American  soldier-song  which 
became  broadly  popular  is  said  to  have  ema- 
nated from  the  fertile  fancy  of  Gen.  James 
Wolfe,  in  1759. 

As  the  boat  of  this  gallant  soldier  was  glid- 
ing over  the  silent  tide  of  the  St.  Lawrence  on 


1  Born  October  7,  1746,  and  died  in  Boston,  September 
26,  1800.  He  published  six  different  works  on  psalmody, 
embracing  many  pieces  of  his  own  composition.  The  spirit 
of  the  revolution  appears  in  many  of  his  verses,  and  some  of 
his  psalm  tunes  were  frequently  played  on  the  fife  and  drum 
in  the  revolutionary  army.  The  words  to  Chester  which 
were  written  by  himself,  are  : 

Let  tyrants  shake  their  iron  rod, 

And  slavery  clank  her  galling  chains ; 

We'll  fear  them  not  —  we  trust  in  God  ; 
New  England's  G-od  forever  reigns. 


16  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

the  eve  of  that  battle  which  gave  him  death  and 
glory,  he  repeated  in  a  low  wailing  tone,  that 
celebrated,  and  to  him  prophetic  strain  of  Gray  : 

The  boast  of  heraldry,  the  pomp  of  power, 

And  all  that  beauty,  all  that  wealth  ere  gave, 
Await  alike  the  inevitable  hour ; 

The  paths  of  glory  lead  but  to  the  grave. 

and  then  under  the  inspiration  of  the  hour  and 
yet  as  if  in  contrast  to  the  thought  —  a  sparkle 
of  light  upon  the  darkling  wave  —  he  sang  : 

How  stands  the  glass  around  ! l 
For  shame  ye  take  no  care,  my  boys  j 

How  stands  the  glass  around ! 

Let  mirth  and  wine  abound 

The  trumpet  sounds, 
The  colors,  they  are  flying,  boys. 

which  was  sung  in  the  messes  of  officers  and 
squads  of  soldiers  in  both  armies  through  the 
revolution,  and  which  is  still  a  popular  military 
song. 

The  death  of  Wolfe  created  an  intense  sensa- 
tion both  in  England  and  America,  and  a  few 


1  The  idea  is  from  Why  Soldiers,  why,  in  the  Patron, 
1729.  flow  stands  the  glass  around,  first  appeared  in  Wil- 
liam Shield's  Siege  of  Gibraltar,  1775.  It  is  questionable 
whether  Wolfe  composed  the  song.  See  Chappell's  Popu- 
lar Music  of  the  Olden  Times,  vol.  n,  p.  689. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  17 

years  afterwards  the  notorious  Thomas  Paine, 
author  of  the  Age  of  Reason,  wrote  his  cele- 
brated ode  in  memory  of  the  lamented  hero. 
It  is  a  beautiful  specimen  of  English  anapestic 
verse ;  graceful  in  rhythm  and  melody,  yet  a 
little  over  strained  in  sentiment.  The  music 
is  the  fine  old  plaintive  English  air  called  The 
Gods  of  the  Greeks,  and  is  well  adapted  to  the 
words. 

This  song  continued  popular  long  after  the 
revolution,  and  nothing  brings  my  dear  old 
father's  features  more  distinctly  to  my  mind 
than  the  words  of  the  closing  stanza,  which  his 
noble  tenor  voice  would  render  so  effectively  as 
to  leave  our  young  eyes  brimming  full  of  patri- 
otic tears  I1  "To  the  plains  of  Quebec  "  —  it  is 
the  death  angel  who  speaks : 

"  To  the  plains  of  Quebec  with  the  orders  I  flew ; 

He  begged  for  a  moment's  delay ; 
He  cried  '  0  forbear  !  let  me  victory  hear 

And  then  thy  commands  I'll  obey ! ' 
With  a  darksome  thick  film  I  encompassed  his  eye 

And  bore  him  away  in  an  urn, 
Lest  the  fondness  he  bore  for  his  own  native  shore, 

Should  induce  him  again  to  return/' 


1  "  The  melody  of  youthful  days 
Which  steals  the  trembling  tear  of  speechless  praise." 


18  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Mr.  Paine  afterwards  wrote  in  the  same 
graceful  measure  and  to  the  same  beautiful  tune, 
his  well  known  Liberty  Tree  : 

"  In  the  chariot  of  light  from  the  regions  of  day 

The  goddess  of  Liberty  came  ; 
Ten  thousand  celestials  directed  her  way, 

And  hither  conducted  the  dame. 
A  fair  budding  branch  from  the  gardens  above, 

Where  millions  with  millions  agree, 
She  brought  in  her  hand  as  a  pledge  of  her  love, 

And  the  plant  she  named  Liberty  tree." 

which   had  influence  in  fanning  the  flame  of 
patriotism  in  the  days  of  yore. 


IV.  Music  OF  THE  REVOLUTION,  YANKEE 
DOODLE. 

It  were  quite  easy  to  trace  the  progress  and 
to  write  the  history  of  the  American  revolution 
itself,  from  this  period  to  its  eventful  close,  by 
the  patriotic  songs  which  were  written  in  com- 
memoration of  the  scenes  as  they  transpired ; 
and  these  songs,  though  homely  in  style  and 
sentiment,  sung  in  the  camps  of  the  soldiers, 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  19 

were  undoubtedly  as  effective  in  inspiring  and 
keeping  alive  the  spirit  of  patriotism  as  the 
voices  of  Adams,  Otis,  and  of  Henry,  in  the 
for.um.  I  can,  however,  refer  only  to  one  of 
the  most  prominent  of  these  songs.  Its  music 
touched  the  heart  of  every  patriot  soldier  then  ; 
and  rings  with  a  fresh  power  through  every 
patriotic  bosom  still.  It  bears  the  quaint  but 
spirit>stirring  name  of  Yankee  Doodle  I 

This  is  indeed  a  free  and  easy,  queer  and 
comical,  good-for-nothing,  rolicksoine  sort  of  a 
tune ;  with  a  dash  of  a  saucy,  mind-your-own- 
business  in  it ;  a  drole,  as  a  Frenchman,  and  a 
rigmarole,  as  an  Englishman,  would  be  like  to 
call  it ;  and  yet  it  is  fairly  naturalized ;  and  this 
by  one  of  the  most  intelligent  nations  in  the 
world ;  which  unmistakeably  implies,  what  I 
most  honestly  believe,  that  the  tune  has  real 
"  snap  and  ring  and  ginger  "  in  it ;  and  though 
of  humble  origin,  is  worthy  of  a  brief  biography. 
The  term  Yankee  is  evidently  a  corruption  of 
the  word  English  or  of  the  French,  Anglais?  as 


1 "  Le  mot  Yankee/'  says  M  Philarete  Chasles,  Revue  dcs 
Deux  Mondes,  May  15,  1850,"  n'est  autre  quo  le  mot  Eng- 
lish trausfonne  par  la  proriouciution  defectueuse  des  indige- 


20  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

imperfectly  and  gutturally  spoken  by  the  In- 
dians and  the  real  meaning  of  Yanlcee  Doodle 
would  therefore  be  English  simpleton. 

The  tune,  it  is  very  well  known,  is  a  daughter 
of  the  regiment — -  coming  to  us  by  adoption. 
Its  parentage  is  involved  in  great  obscurity ; 
many  cities,  as  in  case  of  Homer,  claiming  it. 
Some  consider  it  an  old  vintage  song  of  France  ; 
the  Spaniards  think  their  vales  have  echoed  to 
its  notes  in  early  days ; *  the  Magyars,  with 
Louis  Kossuth,  recognize  in  it  one  of  their  old 
national  dances.  England  entertains  some  sha- 


nes  du  Massachusetts ;  Yenghis,  Yanyhis,  Yankies.  Les 
Anglais  quand  ils  se  moquent  des  Yankies,  se  moquent 
d'eux-memes." 

And  so  the  Rev.  James  C.  Richmond  rightly  sings  : 

"  At  Yankies,  John,  beware  to  laugh  j 

Against  yourself  you  joke ; 
For  Yenghees,  English,  is  but  half 
By  Indian  natives  spoke." 

1  The  following  note  is  from  a  secretary  of  legation  at 

Madrid :  MADRID,  June  3,  1858. 

My  Dear  Sir :  The  tune  Yankee  Doodle,  from  the  first 
of  my  showing  it  here,  has  been  acknowledged  by  persons 
acquainted  with  music  to  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  the 
popular  airs  of  Biscay ;  and  yesterday,  a  professor  from  the 
north  recognized  it  as  being  much  like  the  ancient  sword 
dance  played  on  solemn  occasions  by  the  people  of  San  Se- 
bastian. He  says  the  tune  varies  in  those  provinces,  and 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  21 

dowy  traditions  of  its  birth  before  the  times  of 
Cromwell;  and  the  Dutchman  claims  it  as  a 
low  country  song  of  tithes  and  bonnyclabber ; 
giving,  it  is  said,  as  the  original  words : 

"  Yanker  didel,  doodel,  down  ; 

Didel,  dudel,  lanter, 
Yanke  viver,  voover  vown 

Botermilk  and  tather."  [tithes] 

But  whatever  may  have  been  its  origin,  this 
child  of  the  regiment,  so  far  as  I  can  learn,  first 
appeared  in  America  on  the  banks  of  the  Hud- 


proposes  in  a  couple  of  months  to  give  me  the  changes  as 
they  are  to  be  found  in  their  different  towns,  that  the 
matter  may  be  judged  of  and  fairly  understood.  Our  na- 
tional air  certainly  has  its  origin  in  the  music  of  the  free 
Pyrenees;  the  first  strains  are  identically  those  of  the 
heroic  Danza  Esparta,  as  it  was  played  to  me,  of  brave 
old  Biscay. 

Very  truly  yours, 

BUCKINGHAM  SMITH. 

The  origin  of  the  word  Yankee  has  greatly  perplexed  the 
etymologists ;  yet  that  given  in  the  text  is  by  far  the  most 
probable.  Anbury,  in  his  Travels  through  the  Interior  of 
North  America,  vol.  II,  p.  46,  says  it  is  derived  from  a  Che- 
rokee word,  eankke,  which  means  coward  and  slave.  See 
/M//v'«  Book  of  the  Indians,  book  I,  p.  23.  Others  deduce 
it  from  the  old  Scotch  word  Yankie,  a  sharp,  clever  woman. 
A  writer  in  the  Boston  Weekly  Magazine,  for  January  29, 
1803,  says  it  is  from  Yankau,  an  Indian  word  for  con- 
4 


22  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

son,  in  June,  1755;1  and  was  introduced  into 
the  American  camp  by  one  mischievous  Dr. 
Richard  Shuckburgh 2  of  the  British  army  in 
this  amusing  way.  Our  colonial  companies 
under  Gov.  William  Shirley,  then  encamped 
on  the  left  of  the  British  army,  meanly 
disciplined  and  still  more  meanly  clad;  some 
in  long  tailed  blue  coats,  some  in  long-tailed 
black  coats,  some  in  no  coats  at  all,  heads 
shorn  —  heads  unshorn,  and  marching  after 
music  quite  two  centuries  old,  incurred,  of 
course,  the  ridicule  of  their  fashionable  trans- 
atlantic allies. 


queror  ;  but  most  writers  now  agree  with  Mr.  Heckewelder, 
that  it  .is  a  corruption  of  the  word  Anglais,  or  English,  made 
by  the  Indians  in  pronouncing  it. 

Yengees,  says  Mrs.  Child,  in  ffobomok,  p.  39,  is  "  The 
Indian  term  fur  English  from  which  Yankee  is  probably 
derived." 

Dr.  Trumbull  says,  in  a  note  to  one  of  his  poems, 
"  The  Indians,  in  attempting  to  utter  the  word  English, 
with  their  broad,  guttural  accent,  gave  it  a  sound  which 
would  be  nearly  represented  in  this  way;  Younghees  — 
[Yankees]." 

1  For  the  history  of  this  national  air,  see  N.  H.  Carter's 
article  in  Moore's  Historical  Miscellany,  vol.  ill,  p.  217. 

-  Richard  Shuckburg  was  appointed  secretary  of  Indian 
affairs  by  Sir  William  Johnson,  in  1760.  Documentary 
History  of  New  York,  II,  460. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  23 

To  keep  the  sport  along,  this  naughty  Dr. 
Shuckburgh,  wit,  fiddler,  surgeon  as  he  was, 
tells  the  Americans  that  their  music  is  too 
comical,  and  that  he  will  get  up  a  tune  for 
them  in  modern  style,  and  so  he  gives  Yankee 
Doodle  !  "  Mighty  fine  !  "  the  raw  recruits  cry 
out.  It  strikes  at  once  the  strong  chord  in  the 
American  heart,  and  is  heard  immediately,  and 
nothing  else  is  heard  throughout  the  camp  — 
the  colonies. 

It  became  our  battle  march1  in  the  revolution, 
and  although  the  British  gave  it  us,  June,  1755, 
we  gave  it  back  to  them,  June,  1775,  with 
compound  interest.  We  then  baptized  the 
bantling  in  the  blood  of  heroes ;  placed  upon  it 
the  fair  name  of  FREEDOM,  rocked  it  in  old  Fa- 
neuil  Hall,  and  took  it  home  to  live  with  us 
forever. 

By  a  strong  poetic  license,  Geo.  P.  Morris 
makes  the  adoption  of  Yankee  Doodle  date  back 
only  to  the  destruction  of  tea  in  Boston  harbor; 


While  every  rebel  fife  in  play 
To  Yankee  Doodle  tuned  its  lay, 
And  like  the  music  of  the  spheres, 
Mellifluous  soothed  their  vanquished  ears." 

Canto  VI. 


24  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

yet  well  he  writes  in  the  bright  spirit  of  the 
tune,  and  to  the  tune  itself. 

"  A  long  war  then  they  had,  in  which 

John  was  at  last  defeated ; 
And  Yankee  Doodle  was  the  march, 
To  which  their  troops  retreated. 

'  Cute  Jonathan,  to  see  them  fly, 

Could  not  restrain  his  laughter ; 
<  That  tune,'  said  he,  '  suits  to  a  T, 

I'll  sing  it  ever  after,'  " 

And  so  he  still  keeps  singing  it  —  and  so  the 
foe  still  flies  before  it. 

The  brigade  under  Lord  Percy  played  Yan- 
kee Doodle  in  contempt  of  the  Americans  as 
they  moved  on  Lexington1 — they  played  an- 
other tune  returning  —  but  still  they  sang  it 
through  the  streets  of  Boston  to  such  words  as  : 

"  Yankee  Doodle  came  to  town, 

For  to  buy  a  firelock  ; 
We  will  tar  and  feather  him, 

And  so  we  will  John  Hancock." 

Although  the  British  gave  us  Yankee  Doodle 
as  a  joke,  I  think  we  fully  paid  them  back  in 


1  In  his  very  able  account  of  the  battle  of  Lexington,  the 
Hon.  Charles  Hudson  says  :  "  Percy  marched  out  through 
Roxbury,  to  the  tune  of  Yankee  Doodle."  See  History  of 
Lexington,  p.  197-8. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  25 

their  own  coin  for  it,  in  the  merry  songs  which 
it  inspired  at  their  expense  before  the  revolu- 
tion ended. 

The  most  remarkable  of  these  was  written 
by  Francis  Hopkinson,  Esquire,1  author  of  Gene- 
ral Washington '*  March,  and  most  appropri- 
ately called  the  Battle  of  the  Kegs. 

In  1777,  a  genuine  Yankee,  by  the  name  of 
David  Bushnell,  born  in  Saybrook,  undertook 
to  blow  up  the  British  fleet,  then  lying  at  Phila- 
delphia, by  a  sort  of  a  gim-crack  which  he  called 
his  s'ubmariiw  torpedo;  which  nonsensical  in- 
strument, looked  like  a  mud  tortoise  with  a 
man  astride  his  back ;  and  was  just  about  as 
slow  in  movement. 

Failing  in  this,  he  then  prepares  a  quantity 
of  wooden  kegs,  or  porpoises;  fills  them  with 
some  kind  of  explosive  powder  ;  arranges  them 
with  a  spring  lock  so  as  to  go  off  when  coming 


1  Son  of  Judge  Thomas  Hopkinson,  who  assisted  Dr. 
Frankliu  iu  his  electrical  discoveries.  He  was  born  at 
Philadelphia,  in  1737,  and  died  on  the  8th  of  May,  1791. 
"  His  head  is  not  bigger  than  a  large  apple,"  writes  John 
Adams  to  his  wife  in  1776,  "  yet  he  is  genteel,  well-bred 
and  very  social."  He  married  the  accomplished  Miss  Ann 
Borden,  of  Bordentown,  New  Jersey,  in  1767. 


26  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

in  contact  with  a  solid  body  ;  and  sends  them 
floating  down  the  Delaware  river  among  the 
vessels  of  the  British  fleet.  One  of  these  black- 
heads bumping  against  some  object  in  the  river, 
happens  to  explode,  and  the  British  soldiers 
seeing  the  stream  alive  with  them,  and  sup- 
posing each  to  contain  a  living  Yankee,  are 
most  wofully  alarmed  and  open  a  general  fire, 
which  is  of  course  returned  by  a  general 
fizzle,  from  Bushnell's  battery.  This  engage- 
ment, fitly  named  Tlw  Battle  of  tlie  Kegs, 
afforded  the  facile  pen  of  Hopkinson,  a  theme 
for  the  wittiest  ballad  of  the  revolution.  Hear 
for  example,  the  cry  of  the  affrighted  British 
sailors : 

"  These  kegs,  I'm  told,  the  rebels  hold, 

Packed  up  like  pickled  herring ; 
And  they're  come  down  to  attack  the  town, 
In  this  new  way  of  ferrying  !  " 

and  when  was  British  valor  ever  better  eulo- 
gized than  in  the  closing  stanzas  : 

"  From  morn  to  night  these  men  of  might 

Displayed  amazing  courage ; 
And  when  the  sun  was  fairly  down, 
Retired  to  sup  their  porridge.     > 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  27 

A  hundred  men  with  each  a  pen 

Or  more,  upon  my  word,  sir, 
It  is  most  true,  would  be  too  few 

Their  valor  to  record,  sir. 

Such  feats  did  they  perform  that  day, 

Against  these  wicked  kegs,  sir ; 
That  years  to  come,  if  they  get  home, 

They'll  make  their  boast  and  brags,  sir." 

God  Save  King  Geoi'ge,  began  the  revolution, 
Yorktown  and  Yankee  Doodle  —  for  it  was 
played  at  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis1  — ended 
it ;  and  so  on  its  great  march  rejoicing,  this 
queer,  old,  plucky,  continental,  saltpetre,  and 
brimstone  tune,  has  been  outsoldiering  its  ene- 
mies, and  continues  to  outsoldier  them  till  our 
dear  old  striped  bunting  now  streams  from 
every  flag-staff  in  the  land  again  ! 

Men  laugh  at  Yankee  Doodle,  yet  they  love 
it;  they  find  all  manner  of  fault  with  it,  as 
with  the  romping,  reckless,  hoyden  girl  of  the 
family ;  and  yet  they  make  the  most  of  it.  The 
world  indeed  has  no  tune  like  it. 

Over  tlie  River  to  Charlie ;  Qa  ira,  a  la  Lan- 
terne,  les  Aristocrats;  St.  Patrick's  Day  in  the 

1  See  John  F.  Watson's  Annals  of  Philadelphia,  vol.  II, 
p.  333. 


28  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Morning,  are  as  much  inferior  to  it  as  Charles 
the  Pretender,  or  Maximilian  Robespierre,  or  the 
tutelary  saint  of  Ireland  were  to  Washington. 
"  Independence  now,  and  independence  forever," 
rings  in  every  note  of  it;  and  we  never  feel  half 
so  much  like  the  very  '76  itself,  as  when  we 
hear  it  rolling.  "For  a  change,"  once  said  a  bon 
vivant,  "let  me  have  water,  but  for  a  steady 
drink,  Old  Cogniac ! "  For  a  change,  I  also  say, 
let  me  have  brass  and  Verdi;  but  for  steady 
martial  music,  fife  and  drum  and  YanJcee  Doodle. 
^  It  is  a  perfectly  democratic  tune  —  alike  for 
lofty  and  for  lowly.  This,  the  young  country 
fiddler,  seated  on  a  trunk  among  the  wasps  and 
cobwebs  of  the  attic,  first  learns  to  scrape  out 
upon  his  squeaking  catgut.  On  this  the  grand 
maestro  weaves  his  wild  fantasia  and  calls  it 
"Opus  number  42."  To  this  the  raw  recruit 
first  learns  to  "mark  the  time"  upon  the  muster 
field.  To  this  the  young  collegian  writes  his 
Latin  thesis : 

"  Nunc  rite  gratulandum  est ; 

Nee  abstinenduru  joco; 
Peractis  binis  saeculis 
Desipitur  in  loco  ! " 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  29 

Its  music  cheers  the  fisherman  on  the  lonely 
coast  of  Labrador;  it  rises  mid  the  wildest 
acclamations  when  the  stately  74  flings  out  her 
pennon  of  the  stripes  and  stars  in  the  enchant- 
ing Bay  of  Naples.  This  is  the  pas  de  charge 
of  our  victorious  troops  advancing  on  the  hostile 
legions ;  the  last  strain  that  greets  the  soldier's 
ear  before  he  wakens  to  the  rapturous  songs  of 
the  celestial  armies. 

It  has  done  something  for  the  people,  and 
the  people  love  it.  It  is  the  blood  of  their 
political  life,  and  you  might  as  well  attempt  to 
rob  them  of  Bunker  Hill,  or  of  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  themselves,  as  of  this  dear  old  clinking, 
clattering,  right  about  face,  defiant  battle  march ! 


V.  SONGS  AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  LAST  CENTURY, 
ROBERT  PAINE'S  ADAMS  AND  LIBERTY,  ETC. 

The  year  1798  brought  forth  three  celebrated 
national  songs.  Our  country,  then  steering 
itself  between  the  political  Sylla  and  Charybdis 
of  France  and  England,  was  expecting  to  be 


30  ^  MONOGRAM  OF 

dashed  upon  the  rocks  on  one  side  or  the  other. 
The  caldron  of  party  strife  was  seething  hotly  ; 
democrats  and  federalists  were  roused  to  fury 
by  the  contending  factions  in  the  hostile  govern- 
ments of  Europe,  so  that  the  calm  voice  of 
Washington  and  these  immortal  songs  seem, 
alone,  to  have  saved  us  from  political  destruc- 
tion. They  came,  according  to  a  law  to  which 
I  have  referred,  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  storm ; 
and  they  in  turn  most  powerfully  conspired  to 
quell  the  storm. 

Two  of  them  were  written  by  sons  of  signers 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

Robert  Treat  Paine,  born  in  Taunton,  Massa- 
chusetts, Dec.  9,  1773,  was  christened  by,  to 
him,  the  unfortunate  name  of  Thomas,  which 
he  subsequently  had  changed  to  Robert  because, 
as  he  observed,  in  allusion  to  the  author  of  the 
Age  of  Reason,  "  he  had  no  Christian  name." 

Vain,  fanciful,  indolent,  he  was  petted  and 
spoiled  in  college,  and  then  married  a  beautiful 
play-actress,  for  which  his  father  foolishly  for- 
bade him  access  to  his  house.  He  subsequently 
gave  himself  up  to  poetry,  wine  and  theatricals, 
any  one  of  which  is  enough  to  ruin  a  man. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  31 

He  inherited,  however,  from  his  honored  sire, 
the  spirit  of  patriotism,  and  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five  produced  his  celebrated  song  Adams 
and  Liberty,  which  rang  like  an  angel's  trumpet 
through  the  land,  and  for  which  he  received 
seven  hundred  dollars  cash,  and  immortality.1 
It  opens  grandly  thus  : 

"  Ye  sons  of  Columbia  who  bravely  have  fought 

For  those  rights  which  unstained  from  your  sires  had  de- 
scended, 

May  you  long  taste  the  blessings  your  valor  has  bought, 
And  your  sons  reap  the  soil  which  your  fathers  defended ; 
'Mid  the  reign  of  mild  peace 
May  your  nation  increase, 

With  the  glory  of  Rome  and  the  wisdom  of  Greece ; 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves." 

The  eighth  stanza  was  written  impromptu, 
under  a  double  pressure,  and  is  of  course  the 
best.  Many  a  verse  has  been  inspired  by  wine, 
but  this  was  written  for  the  want  of  it. 


1  He  died  Nov.  13th,  1811,  and  his  works  were  published 
in  one  volume  by  Charles  Prentiss  in  1812.  He  is  the 
author  of  Rise  Columbia,  1794,  and  other  patriotic  songs. 
Referring  to  him,  one  of  his  biographers  observes  :  "  he  was 
an  electric  battery  charged ;  if  you  touched  him,  the  sparks 
flew." 


32  ^  MONOGRAM  OF 

Dining  with  his  friend,  Major  Benjamin  Rus- 
sell, of  the  Centinel,  one  day,  Paine  was  reminded 
that  his  lyric  was  imperfect,  inasmuch  as  the 
name  of  Washington  was  omitted;  and  his  host 
declared  he  should  not  taste  a  drop  of  wine  until 
he  had  produced  another  stanza. 

The  bibacious  poet  sees  the  glasses  sparkling 
on  the  board,  and  calling  for  a  pen  immediately 
writes  as  from  the  innermost  shrine  of  his 
glowing  heart : 

"  Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land, 

Its  bolts  would  ne'er  rend  Freedom's  temple  asunder, 
For  unmoved  at  its  portals  would  Washington  stand, 
And  repulse  with  his  breast  the  assaults  of  the  thunder  j 
His  sword  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard  would  leap, 

And  conduct  with  its  point  every  flash  to  the  deep ; 
And  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves." 


JOSEPH  HOPKINSON'S  HAIL  COLUMBIA. 

The  same  year,  1798,  when  war  with  France 
appeared  inevitable  —  indeed  had  actually  be- 
gun —  gave  birth  to  another  liberty  hymn,  con- 
ceived in  the  very  loftiest  style  of  patriotic 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  33 

devotion — -enshrining,  as  it  were,  the  spirit  of 
freedom  and  the  glory  of  the  illustrious  sage  of 
Mount  Vernon  about  to  ascend  to  heaven,  and 
passing  them  over  embalmed  in  music  to  the 
incoming  century. 

The  field  music  of  the  revolution  consisted 
mainly  of  Yankee  Doodle;  On  the  Road  to  Boston; 
Rural  Felicity;  My  Dog  and  Gun,  and  Washing- 
ton's March;1  but  on  the  occasion  of  Washing- 
ton's first  attendance  at  the  theatre  in  New 
York,  1789,  a  German  by  the  name  of  Feyles 
composed  a  tune  to  take  the  place  of  Washing- 
ton's March,  christening  it  with  the  name  Presi- 
dents March. 

It  soon  became  a  favorite,  and  on  a  certain 
Monday  evening  in  the  summer  of  1798,  an 
indifferent  singer  by  the  name  of  Fox,  belonging 
to  the  Philadelphia  theatre,  was  about  to  take 
his  benefit. 

Saturday  morning  came;  not  a  ticket  had 
been  sold  and  a  "beggarly  account  of  empty 
boxes"  was  before  him,  when  a  good  thought 
struck  his  brain. 


1  Composed  in  G-,  by  the  Hon.  Francis  Hopkinson.     Sec 

li;xtn,-;>;il  .Vuf/a-mr  for  January,  1850. 


34  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Congress  was  in  session ;  political  strife  ex- 
citing ;  the  storm  of  war  was  lowering,  and  a 
patriotic  song,  especially  if  he  could  get  one 
written  to  Feyles's  President's  March,  would 
save  him. 

He  knew  a  clever  young  lawyer,  once  his 
schoolmate,  and  son  of  the  witty  author  of  the 
Battle  of  tlie  Kegs.  His  name  was  Joseph  Hop- 
kinson* — name  famous,  then  in  law  and  lite- 
rature, but  still  more  famous  now. 

The  poetic  lawyer  pities  his  friend  Fox,  bids 
him  call  again  on  Sunday  afternoon,  and  then 

he  gives  him 0  the  prize  that  glides  into 

the  poor  player's  fingers,  and  through  those 
fingers  into  this  great  nation  —  he  gives  him  — 


"  Hail  Columbia,  happy  land, 
Hail  ye  heroes,  heaven-born  band, 
Who  fought  and  bled  in  freedom's  cause, 
And  when  the  storm  of  war  was  gone 
Enjoyed  the  peace  your  valor  won  j 


1  Son  of  Francis  and  Mary  (Borden)  Hopkinson,  and 
born  in  Philadelphia,  Nov.  12,  1770;  graduated  at  the 
University  of  Pennsylvania,  and  was  counsel  for  Dr.  Rush 
in  his  suit  against  the  celebrated  William  Cobbett.  Con- 
gressman from  1815  to  1819,  and  appointed  judge  in  1828. 
He  was  president  of  the  Philadelphia  Academy  of  Fine  Arts, 
and  died,  highly  respected,  Jan.  15,  1842. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  35 

Let  independence  be  your  boast ; 
Ever  mindful  what  it  cost ; 
Ever  grateful  for  the  prize, 
Let  its  altar  reach  the  skies. 
Firm,  united  let  us  be, 
Rallying  round  our  liberty ; 
As  a  band  of  brothers  joined, 
Peace  and  safety  we  shall  find." 

And  then  : 

"Immortal  patriots  rise  once  more, 
Defend  your  rights,  defend  your  shore." 

And  still  more  grand  it  rolls  along  to  the 
pealing  climax : 

"  Sound,  sound  the  trump  of  fame ; 
Let  Washington's  great  name 
Ring  through  the  world  with  loud  applause." 

Nine  times  the  audience  call  for  it,  and  then 
rising  altogether  join  with  rapturous  tongues  in 
the  full  chorus. 

It  filled  the  theatre  —  it  fired  the  national 
heart  —  it  raised  the  dome  of  patriotism  far 
above  the  minarets  of  faction,  and  bound  us  with 
the  bands  of  faith  and  probity  in  political  union. 

It  is,  you  will  observe,  a  purely  patriotic 
hymn.  It  makes  no  reference  to  France  or  i  y 


36  ^  MONOGRAM  OF 

England,  democrat  or  federalist.  It  therefore 
pleased  alike  each  party.  Every  word  is 
instinct  with  freedom.  It  is  a  clarion  peal, 
each  note  of  it,  from  the  avant  couriers  of  our 
liberty;  and  as  it  electrified  the  hearts  of 
Washington,  Hamilton,  Jefferson,  McHenry, 
then,  so  its  great  glowing  thoughts  make  our 
hearts  leap  exultingly  to-day. 

Jefferson  gave  us  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence ;  Hamilton  gave  us  the  Constitution ; 
Washington  gave  us  his  Farewell  Address  — 
was  the  benefaction  less  when  Hopkinson  gave 
us  Hail  Columbia  ?  1 


SUMNER'S  ODE  ON  SCIENCE. 

I  am  inclined  to  believe  the  citizens  of  Taun- 
ton  are  not  remarkably  felicitous  in  respect  to 
the  names  of  their  children.  We  have  seen  it 


1  In  the  original  arrangement  of  this  celebrated  song, 
which  lies  before  me,  it  is  styled,  "  The  favorite  new  Federal 
Song  adapted  to  the  President's  March :  sung  by  Mr.  Fox, 
written  by  J.  Hopkinson,  Esq."  The  music  is  in  the  key 
of  C.  For  the  author's  own  account  of  the  composition,  see 
Moore's  Encyclopedia  of  Music,  article  "  Hail  Columbia." 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  37 

in  the  singular  mistake  of  ushering  one  of  them 
into  the  world  under  the  unchristian  title  of 
Thomas  Paine,  and  a  clerical  friend  of  ours 
recently  administered  the  holy  rite  of  baptism 
in  one  of  the  churches  of  that  thriving  town  to 
a  little  love  pledge  under  the  sweet  name  of 
Mary,  when  the  father  terrified  flew  up  to  him, 
in  face  of  the  assembly,  saying :  "  We  have  one 
Mary  in  the  family  already  —  what  a  sad  mis- 
take— can  you  not  unbcvptize  her  ?"  And  many 
a  year  ago  a  father  gave  his  little  son  the 
unmerciful  prcenomen  of  Jazaniah  to  bear  along 
with  him  through  this  gainsaying  world;  but 
Jazaniah  Sumner  came  to  be  a  noble  hearted, 
unpretending,  patriotic  man;  a  deacon  of  the 
church,  who  loved  his  country  more  than  his 
political  party,  and  when  in  1798  the  excellent 
Mr.  Simeon  Daggett  was  preparing  the  young 
gentlemen  and  ladies  for  the  fiftieth  annual 
examination  of  the  Taunton  Academy,  the  good 
deacon,  Jazaniah  Sumner,  was  inditing  a  song, 
both  words  and  music,  to  be  sung  on  the  occa- 
sion. Though  political  in  its  bearing,  he  gave 
it  the  name  of  Ode  on  /Science,  and  this,  so  far 

as  I  can  learn,  is  the  first  good  patriotic  song 
6 


38  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

whose  music  and  whose  words  were  both  com- 
posed by  an  American.  The  author's  letter1 
to  Mr.  Daggett,  with  the  autograph  of  the 
original  music  lies  before  me  as  I  write.  The 
words  are  strictly  national  and  patriotic : 

i. 

The  morning  sun  shines  from  the  east 
And  spreads  his  glories  to  the  west, 
All  nations  with  his  beams  are  blest 
s.    Where'er  his  radiant  light  appears ; 
So  Science  spreads  her  lucid  ray 
O'er  lands  that  long  in  darkness  lay  : 
She  visits  fair  Columbia 

And  sets  her  sons  among  the  stars." 

ii. 

"Fair  Freedom  her  attendant  waits 
To  bless  the  portals  of  her  gates, 
To  crown  the  young  and  rising  states, 

With  laurels  of  immortal  day. 
The  British  yoke,  the  Gallic  chain, 
Was  urged  upon  our  sons  in  vain ; 
All  haughty  tyrants  we  disdain, 

And  shout  — '  Long  live  America.'  " 

The  author  strikes  at  France  and  England 
alike,  exalting  our  own  land  in  glory  between 


1  Jazaniah  Sumner's  Letter  to  Mr.  Simeon  Daggett, 
Preceptor  of  Taunton  Academy. 

SIR  :  While  I  was  anticipating  the  pleasing  satisfaction 
of  a  respectable  audience  who  will  probably  attend  on  the 
day  of  exhibition,  I  was  anxious  that  we  on  our  part  might 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  39 

them,  and  when  on  a  certain  occasion  the 
federalists  in  that  part  of  Taunton,  since  called 
Raynham,  inserted  the  word  Jacobins  instead  of 
tyrants  in  the  chorus  and  thundered  out : 

"  All  haughty  Jacobins  we  disdain, 
And  shout  '  Long  live  America/  " 

a  terrific  storm  of  indignation  burst  forth  from 
the  Jeffersonian  wing  of  the  house  and  the 
meeting  broke  up  in  confusion.  Though  the 
words  of  this  song  are  not  remarkably  poetical, 
the  music  is  as  original  and  peculiar  as  Timothy 
Swan's  old  tune  of  China.  The  chorus  comes 
out  in  fine  relief  to  the  plaintiveness  of  the  quar- 

add  something  to  the  novelty  of  the  day.  In  searching  our 
church  music  I  could  find  nothing  suitable  which  was  the 
cause  of  my  attempting  this  small  piece  of  music,  together 
with  the  lines.  It  will  be  a  sufficient  apology  for  me  to  say 
that  I  have  no  pretensions  to  a  poetical  genius,  nor  have  I 
trod  the  flowery  path  of  science,  but  hope  my  attempt  may 
emulate  some  superior  genius  who  may  offer  something  more 
worthy  your  acceptance. 

Such  as  it  is  it  is  humbly  dedicated  to  you,  sir  (together 
with  my  sincere  wishes  that  you  may  long  preside  over  the 
useful  institution  in  this  place,  and  have  the  satisfaction  to 
see  your  labors  crown'd  with  success),  by  your  most  obedient 

servant'  JAZANIAH  SUMNER. 

Taunton,  April  3,  1798. 

To  Mr.  Simeon  Daggett. 


40  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

tette  with  the  ring  of  a  war  trumpet.  Had 
the  tune  commenced,  as  the  Gods  of  the  Greelts, 
upon  a  lower  note,  it  would  have  been  more 
popular  still.  The  first  step  is  unfortunately 
the  longest  one,  and  that  too  often  prevents  the 
people  from  taking  any  step  at  all ;  but  the  tune 
is  national,  our  first  national  patriotic  tune ;  it 
performed  good  service  in  its  day,  and  hence  in 
memory  of  the  times  -gone  by  we  love  to  sing  it 
and  to  speak  the  name  of  Jazaniah  Sumner  still. 


VI.  THE  EARLY  SONGS  OF  THIS  PRESENT  CENTURY. 

Of  the  patriotic  songs  which  appeared  in  the 
early  part  of  this  century  and  even  to  the  war 
of  1812,  none  perhaps  were  more  popular  than 
Mrs.  Susanna  Rowson's  spirited  America,  Com- 
merce and  Freedom;  and  Jefferson  and  Liberty, 
written  to  an  old  Irish  air  in  1801.  Our  ladies 
used  to  sing  at  that  period  Thomas  Campbell's 
Exiles  of  Erin;  Since  then  I'm  Doomed,  from  the 
Spoiled  Child;  Tell  me,  babbling  Eclio,  and 
Bidwell's  Friendship ;  our  seamen,  Black  Eyed 
Sman,  and  Charles  Dibdin's  beautiful  Tom  Bow- 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  41 

line;  our  young  sentimentalists,  Gen.  John 
Burgoyne's  Encompassed  in  an  Angel's  Frame, 
and  Sterne's  Maria;  while  our  old  men  in  their 
social  interviews  made  the  welkin  ring  with  Hail 
Columbia.,  Adams  and  Liberty,  and  Sumner's  Ode 
on  Science,  bringing  in  as  interludes,  it  might  be, 
the  Soldiers  Return;  the  Bright  Rosy  Morning ; 
Life  let  us  CJierish  ;  Begone  dull  Care,  and 
intermingling  now  and  then  the  minor  strains 
of  the  old  Indian  Death  Song : l 

"  The  sun  sets  at  night  and  the  stars  shun  the  day/' 

Gilder oy  ;  Wife,  Children  and  Friends  ;2  Major 
Andre's  Lament,  and  Oswald's  sorrow-breathing 
Roslin  Castle? 


1  The  words  of  this  once  popular  song,  sometimes  ascribed 
to  Philip  Freneau,  were  written  by  Mrs.  John  Hunter,  a 
sister  of  Sir  Everard  Home.    "  The  idea  was  suggested  seve- 
ral years  ago,"  says  the  author,  "  by  hearing  a  gentleman  who 
had  resided  many  years  ago  in  America  among  the  tribe 
called  the  Cherokees,  sing  a  wild  air  which  he  assured  me 
it  was  customary  for  those  people  to  chant  with  a  barbarous 
jargon,  implying  contempt  of  their  enemies  in  the  moments 
of  torture  and  death."      See  Duyckinck's  Cyc.  of  Am.  Lit., 
vol.  i,  p.  341. 

2  By  the  Hon.  William   R.  Spencer,  1770-1834.—  Cyc. 
KIHJ.  Lit.,  ii,  421. 

3  "  Its  no  a  Scots  tune,  but  it  passes  for  one.     Oswald 


42  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

But  the  impressment  of  seamen,  the  embargo 
and  Mr.  Madison's  war  that  followed,  threw  the 
country  into  another  exigence,  and  by  the  law 
that  the  bruised  flower  yields  the  sweetest  per- 
fume, another  national  lyric,  the  brightest  of 
the  constellation,  sprang  from  it  to  breathe 
fresh  inspiration  into  every  loyal  heart.  The 
war  had  come  down  to  its  darkest  hour,  and 
while  in  commemoration  of  our  naval  victories 
inferior  hands  were  striking  out  such  clever 
songs  as  Our  Flag  is  there,  and  while  some  in 
livelier  mood  were  giving  us  the  Jolly  Enterprise 
and  Boxer,  and,  to  the  tune  of  JEvelines  Sower, 

"  I  often  have  been  told, 

That  the  British  seamen  bold, 
Could  beat  the  tars  of  France  neat  and  handy,  0." 

One  solitary  eye  in  fine  frenzy  rolling,  caught 
a  spark  of  true  Promethean  fire  and  conferred 
a  royal  benefaction  on  his  native  land. 


made  it  himsell,  I  reckon.  He  has  cheated  mony  ane,  but 
he  canna  cheat  Wandering  Willie.  He  then  played  your 
favorite  air  of  Roslin  Castle  with  a  number  of  beautiful 
variations." — Red  Gauntlet,  p.  31. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  43 


FRANCIS  SCOTT  KEY'S  STAR  SPANGLED  BANNER. 

Jn  the  month  of  August,  1814,  the  country 
hung  upon  the  verge  of  ruin.  Our  army  led 
by  Dearborn,  Hull  and  Winder  was  diminishing 
under  a  succession  of  deplorable  reverses.  The 
democrats  and  federalists  were  burning  with 
political  rancor;  our  financial  credit  had  run 
down  to  zero,  and  our  currency  was  such  that 
it  required  a  dollar  to  buy  a  single  yard  of 
cotton  cambric  cloth.  In  the  midst  of  this 
general  gloom  Lord  George  Cockburn  enters 
the  Chesapeake  with  a  fleet  of  20  sail,  and 
makes  a  quick  advance  on  Washington. 

At  Bladensburg,  Md.,  the  British  army, 
4,000  veterans,  under  Major  Robert  Ross,  en- 
counters Gen.  William  H.  Winder,  who,  fight- 
ing feebly,  soon  sets  out  on  what  is  called  the 
Bladensburg  races,  for  the  woods. 

Cockburn  enters  Washington — the  capitol — 
ascends  into  the  speaker's  chair  and  puts  the 
question  to  his  soldiers :  "  Shall  this  harbor  of 
Yankee  democracy  be  burned  ?  "  "  Yes !  yes ! " 
cry  out  a  thousand  voices,  and,  in  a  little,  flames 


44  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

are  rising  over  all  the  city,  and  the  capital  is  in 
ruins. 

Cockburn  now  turns  his  course  on  Baltimore, 
defended  by  10,000  men  and  Fort  M'Henry .  Ross 
lands  his  troops  below  the  city  and  commences 
marching  on  it ;  while  the  fleet,  increased  to  forty 
sail,  prepares  for  the  bombardment  of  the  fort. 

Meantime  a  little  vessel  guided  by  a  brave 
young  man,  and  bearing  a  white  flag  of  t/ruce, 
shoots  out  from  underneath  the  guns  of  Fort 
M'Henry,  and  glides  like  a  bird  down  the 
broad  bay  directly  to  the  flag  ship  of  the  British 
squadron. 

That  man  is  Francis  Scott  Key.1  He  goes  to 
intercede  for  the  deliverance  of  his  dear  old 
friend  Dr.  Beanes,  who  had  been  taken  prisoner 
at  the  races. 

Cockburn  detains  him. 

The  squadron,  forming  a  vast  semicircle, 
moves,  like  a  vulture  with  its  talons  spread, 


1  Francis  Scott  Key,  son  of  John  Ross  Key,  an  officer  in 
the  revolutionary  army,  was  born  Aug.  1,  1779,  and  died 
Jan.  11,  1843,  leaving  a  numerous  family.  One  of  his  sons 
was  shot  in  a  duel  by  John  Sherburne  of  Portsmouth,  N.  H., 
and  another,  Philip  Barton  Key,  was  killed  at  Washington 
by  Daniel  E.  Sickles  on  Sunday,  Feb.  27,  1859. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  45 

as  if  to  grasp  and  crush  at  one  fell  swoop  the 
silent  fort. 

Key's  boat  is  kept  astern  of  the  flag  ship  of 
the  admiral,  himself  a  prisoner  in  it,  and  from 
this  point  he  hears  above  the  booming  of  the 
floods  the  steady  cannonading  on  the  shore. 

From  this  point  he  sees  the  lingering  sun- 
beams of  the  13th  of  September  fade  away 
beneath  the  forests  on  the  west;  he  sees  the 
heavy  clouds  come  rolling  over  the  dark  waters  of 
the  bay,  and  a  dim  twinkling  light  from  the  low 
promontory  of  the  Fort  M'Henry,  now  the  slen- 
der pivot  on  which  our  national  destiny  is 
turning. 

From  that  frail  skiff,  moored  to  the  tall 
admiral  he  marks  the  mighty  preparations  for 
the  onset  —  the  clearing  of  the  decks,  the 
ranging  of  the  guns,  the  furling  of  the  canvas. 

And  now  —  ah,  look,  the  long  and  curved 
line  of  brazen  lips  are  spouting  forth  the  fiery 
streams  of  death,  directed  to  one  common  cen- 
tre—Fort M'Henry. 

Ah,  look!  The  globes  of  fire  cast  lurid 
gleams  upon  the  inky  clouds  above,  the  waves 
are  flashing  in  the  flames  below. 


46  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Ah  look !  A  torrent  hissing  from  the  fort 
comes  crashing  back  into  the  ships ;  and  now 
sheets  of  flame  and  bursting  shells,  and  red  hot 
shot,  and  bugle  notes  and  falling  masts,  and 
streams  of  gore  and  battle  agony  —  the  conster- 
nation and  the  havoc  and  the  din  of  direful 
war.  You  can  see  it,  tell  it  I  cannot. 

All  through  the  thundering  crash  of  that 
long,  horrid  night,1  the  prisoner  stands  in  his 
light  skiff,  intently  gazing  on  the  rolling  floods 
of  fire  —  heaven,  earth,  and  sea  in  one  wild 
blaze;  a  leaf — himself  and  country — shaken 
by  the  tempest  to  the  very  verge  of  doom. 


1  Sixteen  hundred  bombs  by  old  Cockburn's  command, 
At  our  fort  were  discharged  by  his  famed  sons  of  plunder, 

While  unmoved  stood  brave  Armistead's  well  chosen  band, 
Sending  back  their  full  change  in  red  hot  Yankee  thunder. 
Battle  of  North  Point. 

The  bombardment  began  at  daylight  on  the  13th  inst., 
and  continued  till  the  morning  of  the  14th,  about  twenty- 
five  hours.  The  night  was  dark  and  stormy,  with  thunder 
and  lightning.  Four  hundred  shells  exploded  within  the 
fort,  and  yet  only  four  of  our  men  were  killed.  See  The 
Late  War  by  William  James,  vol.  II,  p.  307 ;  also  Notices 
of  the  War  of  1812,  by  John  Armstrong,  vol.  u,  p.  136. 
In  his  HlMori/  of  Maryland,  John  M'Sherry  says,  vol.  u,  p. 
343,  the  bombardment  began  on  the  evening  of  the  13th  of 
September,  which  is  evidently  a  mistake. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  47 

But  lo !  the  fire  balls  cease  to  flame  across 
the  bay ;  the  roar  of  the  terrific  conflict  is  sub- 
siding, and  now  all  is  dark  and  still  again. 

Has  the  fort  M'Henry  struck  her  flag  ? 

Oh,  what  an  hour  of  agony ! 

With  straining  eyes  Key  waits  and  watches 
for  the  first  gray  beam  of  breaking  day  —  even 
as  the  saint  for  the  first  gleams  of  immortality. 

But  now  the  clouds  roll  by,  the  dawn  is 
trembling  on  the  headlands,  the  mist  is  clearing, 
and  there,  just  rising  dimly  from  the  ramparts 
through  the  gray  vail  of  the  morning  Key  dis- 
cerns —  oh,  thrilling  as  the  vision  of  an  angel 
from  the  gates  of  Eden  —  Key  discerns  the 
dear  old  stripes  and  stars  still  waving ! 

Snatching  an  old  letter  from  his  pocket,  he 
lays  it  on  a  barrel-head,  and  while  the  flag  is  in 
his  eye,  the  fiery  tides  of  liberty  coursing 
through  his  soul,  he  writes : 

i. 

"  0!  say  can  you  see  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 

What  so  proudly  we  hailed  at  the  twilight's  last  gleaming; 
Whose  broad  stripes  and  bright  stars  through  the  perilous  fight, 
O'er  the  ramparts  we  watched  were  so  gallantly  streaming; 
And  the  rocket's  red  glare,  the  bombs  bursting  in  air, 
Gave  proof  through  the  night  that  our  flag  was  still  there. 
O  say  !  does  the  star-spangled  banner  still  wave,    • 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave  ! " 


48  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

II. 

"  On  the  shore  dimly  seen  through  the  mist  of  the  deep, 
Where  the  foe's  haughty  host  in  dread  silence  reposes, 
What  is  that  which  the  breeze  o'er  the  towering  steep, 

As  it  fitfully  blows,  half  conceals,  half  discloses  ? 
Now  it  catches  the  gleam  of  the  morning's  first  beam, 
In  full  glory  reflected,  now  it  shines  on  the  stream ; 
'Tis  the  star-spangled  ^banner,  0  !  long  may  it  wave, 
O'er  the  laua  6*f  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 

in. 
"  0  thus  be  it  ever  when  freemen  shall  stand, 

Between  their  loved  homes  and  war's  desolation ; 
Blessed  with  victory  and  peace,  may  the  heaven-rescued  land, 

Praise  the  power  that  hath  made  and  preserved  us  a  nation. 
Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  it  is  just, 
And  this  be  our  motto  — '  In  God  is  our  trust.' 
And  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  shall  wave, 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of  the  brave."  l 

Cockburn  soon  left  the  bay;  God  save  the 
king  —  the  country ! 

The  music  of  the  Star  Spangled  Banner  was 
composed  by  Dr.  Samuel  Arnold,2  Oxford,  Eng- 
land, for  the  old  hunting  song  Anacreon  in 
Heaven. 


1  These  words  were  originally  published  in  the  Baltimore 
Patriot  on  the  20th  of  September,  1814,  under  the  title  cf 
The  Defence  of  Fort  McHenry. 

-'  Dr.  Samuel  Arnold  [1739-1802],  author  of  The  Maid 
of  the  Mill,  and  the  oratorios  of  The  Prodigal  Son, 
The  Curse  of  Saul,  and  The  Resurrection  ; 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  49 

It  is,  I  dare  maintain  in  opposition  to  the 
critics,  original,  elevated,  soul-inspiring  and 
most  admirably  suited  for  a  national  anthem. 

It  commences  on  a  key  so  low  that  all  may 
join  in  it. 

It  has  unity  of  idea.  The  melodic  parts 
most  naturally  succeed  each  other,  and  if  I 
may  so  speak,  are  logically  conjoined  and  bound 
together.  It  consists  of  solo,  duett  and  chorus, 
and  thus  in  unity  presents  variety.  It  is  bold, 
warlike,  and  majestic ;  stirring  the  profoundest 
emotions  of  the  soul,  and  echoing  through  its 
deepest  chambers  something  of  the  prospective 
grandeur  of  a  mighty  nation  tramping  towards 
the  loftiest  heights  of  intellectual  dominion.1 

was  organist  and  composer  to  his  majesty's  chapel  at  St. 
James's,  and  published  a  splendid  edition  of  the  works  of 
the  immortal  George  F.  Handel  in  1786.  He  also  published 
four  volumes  of  cathedral  music. 

1  The  effect  of  this  national  air  as  sung  by  ten  thousand 
voices  at  the 'Peace  Festival  in  Boston,  June  15,  1869,  with 
full  orchestra,  drum  corps,  chiming  of  bells,  and  artillery 
accompaniments  was  truly  grand.  At  the  conclusion  of  the 
last  stanza  the  vast  audience  sprang  up  and  filled  with  deaf- 
ening cheers  the  Coliseum. 


50  A  MONOGRAM  OF 


VII.  OUR  SONGS  DURING  THE  TRANQUILLITY 
WHICH  MR.  MADISON'S  WAR  SECURED. 

Under  the  cerulean  skies  which  followed  the 
hard  contest,  there  frequently  appeared  a  beau- 
tiful American  song  to  gladden  our  hearts  and 
homes,  and  elevate  the  tone  of  social  life.  As 
the  country  advanced  in  wealth  and  education, 
the  people  had  more  leisure  and  more  taste  for 
cultivating  and  enjoying  music.  The  piano- 
forte was  gradually  introduced;  which  by  its 
accompaniments  sustained  the  voice  and  lent 
expression  to  the  song.  Music  books  were 
multiplied,  the  children  in  our  schools  were 
taught,  and  ever  should  be  taught,  to  sing. 

Among  the  popular  songs  of  this  period  which 
may  be  said  to  have  sunk  deeply  into  the  affec- 
tions of  the  people,  none  is  more  widely  known 
than  Home,  Sweet  Home,  by  John  Howard  Payne,1 


1  Born  in  New  York,  June  9,  1792,  and  died  in  Tunis, 
where  he  was  consul,  in  1852.  As  an  actor  and  author  of 
several  dramas  he  met  with  considerable  success;  but  his 
fame  will  rest  upon  the  inimitable  song  of  Sweet  Home, 
which  he  wrote  in  London  for  his  Clari,  or  the  Maid  of 
Milan,  in  1823.  In  giving  a  history  of  his  wanderings  and 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONO.  51 

who  through  reverse  of  fortune  never  came  to 
taste  himself  the  joys  of  that  dear  spot  of  which 
he  sang  so  sweetly.  It  was  estimated  in  1832 
that  more  than  one  hundred  thousand  copies  of 
this  favorite  song  had  been  sold  by  the  original 
publisher.  The  music  was  composed  by  Sir 

his  trials,  he  once  said  to  a  friend  :  "  How  often  I  have  been 
in  the  heart  of  Paris,  Berlin,  and  London,  or  some  other 
city,  and  heard  persons  singing  or  hand-organs  playing 
Sweet  Home,  without  having  a  shilling  to  buy  myself  the 
next  meal,  or  a  place  to  lay  my  head.  The  world  has 
literally  sung  my  song  till  every  heart  is  familiar  with  its 
melody.  Yet  I  have  been  a  wanderer  from  my  boy- 
hood. My  country  has  turned  me  ruthlessly  from  office, 
and  in  my  old  age  I  have  to  submit  to  humiliation  for  my 
bread." 

Mr.  Payne  wrote  two  additional  verses  to  his  immortal 
song  for  a'n  American  lady  in  London  in  1 833  or  '4. — Home 
Journal. 

To  us,  in  despite  of  the  absence  of  years, 
How  sweet  the  remembrance  of  home  still  appears, 
From  allurements  abroad,  which  but  flatter  the  eye, 
The  unsatisfied  heart  turns,  and  says,  with  a  sigh, 
Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home  ! 

There's  no  place  like  home ! 

There's  no  place  like  home  ! 

Your  exile  is  blest  with  all  fate  can  bestow, 
But  mine  has  been  checkered  with  many  a  woe  ! 
Yet  though  different  our  fortunes,  our  thoughts  are  the  same, 
And  both,  as  we  think  of  Columbia,  exclaim, 
Home,  home,  sweet,  sweet  home ! 

There's  no  place  like  home  ! 

There's  no  place  like  home  ! 


52  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

Henry  R.  Bishop  [1782-1856],  for  the  opera 
of  Clari,  which  was  brought  out  in  1823. 

The  Old  Oaken  Bucket,  by  Samuel  Wood- 
worth;1  Woodman  Spare  tliat  Tree,  and  Near 
the  LaJce  there  Drooped  a  Willow,  by  George  P. 
Morris ;  God  Bless  our  Native  Land,  translated 
from  the  German  by  John  S.  Dwight,  the 
accomplished  editor  of  the  Journal  of  Music; 
the  Old  Arm  Chair,  by  Eliza  Cook ;  the  Land- 
ing of  tlie  Pilgrims,  by  George  Lunt,  for  which 
Mr.  T.  B.  White  wrote  the  music ;  A  Life  on  the 
Ocean  Wave,  by  Epes  Sargent,  and 

"  Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep 
I  lay  me  down  in  peace  to  sleep," 

are  all  beautiful  and  well  known  national  lyrics, 
which  have  magically  touched  the  chords  of 


1  Born  in  Scituate,  Mass.,  Jan.  13,  1785,  and  died  Dec.  9, 
1842.  He  wrote  also  The  Hunters  of  Kentucky,  and  other 
songs,  for  which  see  his  Melodies,  published  in  New  York, 
1831.  The  Old  Oaken  Bucket  "was  written  in  the  spring 
or  summer  of  1817.  The  family  were  living  at  the  time  in 
Duane  street.  The  poet  came  home  to  dinner  one  very 
warm  day,  having  walked  from  his  office,  somewhere  near 
the  foot  of  Wall  street.  Being  much  heated  with  the 
exercise,  he  poured  himself  out  a  glass  of  water  —  New  York 
pump  water  —  and  drank  it  at  a  draught,  exclaiming,  as  he 
replaced  the  tumbler  on  the  table,  '  that  is  very  refreshing, 
but  how  much  more  refreshing  would  it  be  to  take  a  good 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  53 

feeling,  and  which  the  people  will  not  willingly 
let  die.  The  last  mentioned  song  is  from  the 
fertile  pen  of  Mrs.  Emma  Willard,1  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  female  educators  in  America, 
whose  fair  and  honored  name  among  its  gifted 
ones  this  city 2  numbers.  It  was  written  on  the 
deep,  whose  mysterious  spirit  it  so  beautifully 
breathes,  during  the  author's  passage  home  from 
Europe  in  1832.  The  Duke  de  Choiseul  who 


long  draught,  this  warm  day,  from  the  old  oaken  bucket  I 
left  hanging  in  my  father's  well,  at  home!'  Hearing  this, 
the  poet's  wife,  who  was  always  a  suggestive  hody,  said, 
'  Selim,  why  wouldn't  that  be  a  pretty  subject  for  a  poem  ?  ' 
The  poet  took  the  hint,  and  under  the  inspiration  of  the 
moment,  sat  down  and  poured  out  from  his  very  soul  those 
beautiful  lines  which  have  immortalized  the  name  of  Wood- 
worth." — Home  Journal. 

1  This  estimable  lady  is  the  daughter  of  Samuel  Hart,  and 
was  born  in  New  Berlin,  Conn.,  in  February,  1787.  She 
commenced  the  Troy  Seminary  for  Young  Ladies  in  1821, 
and  is  the  author  of  several  valuable  educational  works. 
She  published  a  volume  of  poems  in  1830.  Lafayette  visited 
her  when  last  in  America,  and  made  her  a  present  of  a 
valuable  diamond  ring.  She  still  resides  in  Troy,  N.  Y. 
As  Dr.  Delany  said  of  Mrs.  Gibber  on  her  rendering  of 
Handel's  He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  Men — so  may  we 
not  almost  say  of  her  who  wrote  : 

Rocked  in  the  cradle  of  the  deep, 

''  Woman,  for  this,  be  all  thy  sins  forgiven  ! " 
a  Troy,  N.  Y. 


54  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

was  on  board  the  same  vessel,  hearing  Mrs. 
Willard  repeat  the  first  two  lines  of  the  lyric, 
encouraged  her  to  complete  it,  and  then  himself 
composed  the  music  for  it.  The  air,  however, 
to  which  it  is  now  sung  was  written  by  Mr. 
J.  P.  Knight.  When  hearing  some  sweet  voice 
murmuring  this  ocean-song  at  eventide,  whis- 
pering as  it  does  of  the  immensity  of  the  sea, 
of  the  might  of  Him  who  holds  it  in  his  hand, 

"  God  of  stillness  and  of  motion, 
Of  the  rainbow  and  the  ocean  ; " 

the  illustrious  dawn  of  the  grand  coming  destiny 
seems  near ;  the  soul  is  filled  with  the  sublimest 
aspirations,  and  we  feel  that  such  a  song  we 
would  be  glad  to  have  breathed  over  us  while 
the  last  lingering  ray  of  life  is  breaking  into 
the  immortal  splendor. 


VIII.  OUR  SONGS  IN  THE  LATE  WAR. 

In  the  marshaling  to  arms  for  the  suppression 
of  the  late  rebellion,  our  music  came  in,  as  you 
may  well  suppose,  to  exert  a  most  potent  influ- 
ente.  To  the  stirring  strains  of  Yankee  Doodle  ; 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  55 

Columbia  the  Gem  of  the  Ocean,  by  David  T. 
Shaw,  and  set  to  the  English  tune  of  Tlie  Red, 
White  ami  Blue;  Star  Spangled  Banner ;  Hail 
Columbia;  and  Our  Country  'tis  of  Thee,1  by 
Dr.  S.  F.  Smith,  the  national  heart  thrilled 
anew,  and  as  these  old  melodies  arose  from 
well  trained  bands,  the  braves  came  forth  from 
peaceful  homes  to  do  battle  in  the  sacred  cause 
of  liberty.  Eloquence,  money,  did  their  part  — 
but  music  more. 

The  mustering  drum  beat  out  the  stories  of 
the  olden  times,  and  stirred  the  hearts  of  men 
to  rally  round  the  flag ;  and  by  its  enlivening 
roll  the  ranks  were  filled. 

New  songs  came  in  to  swell  the  tide  of  feeling 
and  to  throw  fresh  glory  over  the  tented  field. 


1  One  of  the  most  deservedly  popular  of  our  sacred  na- 
tional hymns,  sung  to  the  tune  of  God  save  the  King,  here 
called  America.  In  a  letter  to  me,  dated  Newton  Centre, 
Mass.,  June  11,  1861,  the  accomplished  and  estimable  author 
says  :  "  The  song  was  written  at  Andover  during  my  student 
life  there,  I  think  in  the  winter  of  1831-2.  It  was  first 
used  publicly  at  a  Sunday  School  celebration  of  July  4th,  in 
Park  street  church,  Boston.  I  had  in  my  possession  a 
quantity  of  German  song  books  from  which  I  was  selecting 
such  music  as  pleased  me,  and  finding  God  save  the  A'/'////, 
I  proceeded  to  give  it  the  ring  of  American  republican 
patriotism." 


56  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

John  Brown1  s  Body  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave 
is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable.  From  its  quaint 
expressions,  mingling  the  mundane  with  the 
spiritual;  from  the  point  in  the  highly  poetical 
line,  "His  soul's  marching  on" — fighting  the 
battles  of  his  country  still ;  from  the  simplicity 
of  the  martial  air,  said  to  be  by  Philip  Simonds, 
which  every  one  could  sing  so  easily,  it  caught 
the  public  ear  at  once ;  became  a  rallying  song 
of  power,  and  called  men  more  mightily  than 
the  tongue  of  eloquence  to  the  war. 

You  heard  its  "  Hallelujah  chorus  "  rise  from 
the  lips  of  the  mustering  squadrons,  as  the  song 
of  the  cross  in  the  times  of  the  old  crusaders. 

Jefferson  and  Liberty,  also  under  the  name  of 
Raw  Recruits,  or  Old  Glory,  had  a  resurrection 
in  the  commencement  of  the  war,  and  sent  its 
electrifying  inspirations  through  the  hearts  of 
millions. 

In  a  vast  assembly  for  obtaining  men,  I 
heard  for  an  hour,  or  more,  the  immortal 
Everett  speak  in  tones  of  most  commanding 
eloquence;  and  as  he  closed  his  soul-entrancing 
periods — it  was  the  dying  music  of  the  swan  — 
the  bands  struck  up  Old,  Glory,  bringing  the 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  57 

audience  in  an  instant  to  their  feet,  firing 
every  heart  with  such  enthusiasm  as  moved 
the  immortal  bands  at  Leuctra  and  at  Ma- 
rathon ;  calling  forth  deafening  thunders  of 
acclamation,  and  phalanx  after  phalanx  of  men 
for  war. 

As  the  great  drama  opened  and  untried 
soldiers  moved  on  toward  the  field  of  deadly 
conflict,  music  came  in  to  inspire  them  for  the 
bold  emprise,  and  nerve  them  for  the  terrific 
onset. 

On  Friday  evening,  July  19, 1861,  before  the 
disastrous  battle  of  Bull  Run,  I  was  lying  with 
the  Michigan  4th  Regiment  in  front  of  the 
enemy  at  Fairfax  Court  House.  The  stillness 
of  the  nightfall  was  broken  only  by  the  report 
of  an  occasional  rifle  from  the  surrounding- 
forest.  The  lights  of  the  camp  were  gradually 
extinguished  and  the  weary  soldiers  were  about 
to  spread  themselves  upon  the  broad  and  ver- 
dant campus  of  the  Court  House  for  repose.  The 
colonel  (Woodberry)  said :  "  Come,  boys,  let's 
have  a  song ! "  The  singers  came  around  him ; 
stretched  themselves  along  the  greensward,  and 
the  oak  branches  bending  over  them,  "in  front 


58  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

of  that  old  building  where  the  voice  of  Patrick 
Henry  had  been  heard  in  golden  tones  for 
liberty,  broke  forth  into  the  glorious  strains  of 
Hail  Columbia,  Star  Spangled  Banner,  and  Old 
Hundred,  making  the  very  welkin  ring  with 
their  manly  voices,  rising  higher,  and  stronger, 
and  mightier — the  whole  regiment  now  joining 
in  —  and  pouring  forth  such  a  tide  of  music  as 
old  ocean  rolls  along  in  praise  to  its  eternal  Ruler. 

I  had  heard  something  of  the  great  masters  — 
the  glorious  choruses  of  Bach,  of  Handel, 
Haydn,  Mendelssohn — I  had  admired  them; 
but  not  till  then  did  I  realize  the  sublime  power 
of  music,  or  so  thank  God  for  its  heart-cheering 
strains.  I  then  felt  that  the  men  would  fight 
till  glory  came,  and  I  was  not  mistaken. 

These  great  songs  sung,  the  weary  men, 
though  in  the  front  of  death,  sank  into  slumbers 
so  profound,  that  the  rain  which  soon  came 
pattering  down  through  the  foliage  of  the  oak 
trees  (I  remember  the  first  drop  that  struck 
my  cheek)  did  not  awaken  them. 

As  the  tide  of  war  rolled  on,  music  came  in 
as  some  sweet  heavenly  visitant,  to  cheer  and 
refresh  the  heart  of  the  imperiled  troops. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  59 

It  is  not  customary,  as  of  old,  for  bands  to 
play  in  the  midst  of  battle.  The  music  then  is 
the  rattling  volley  of  musketry  —  the  booming 
of  the  rifle  cannon  and  the  whizzing  of  the  shot 
and  shell ;  —  the  bands  are  detailed  to  bear  away 
the  dead  and  wounded ;  but  in  some  instances, 
when  the  very  turning  point  of  the  day  has 
come,  as  at  Williamsburg — in  the  terrific  charge 
at  Shiloh,  and  in  the  grand  advance  at  Gettys- 
burg, which  turned  the  tide  of  this  whole  na- 
tion's destiny,  Hail  Columbia  and  Yankee  Doodle 
quickened  the  step  of  the  serried  columns, 
hastening  the  eventful  issue.1 

It  is  hard,  it  is  tearing,  smashing  work  to  fight 
a  battle ; — to  say  nothing  of  the  intense  agony, 
the  wild  phrenzy  of  the  soul;  it  knocks 
the  beauty  out  of  the  whole  frame ;  it  shakes, 
unhinges,  doubles  up  the  whole  organization. 
To  charge  across  dead  men,  close  up  and  grap- 
ple in  the  mortal  strife,  is  a  tremendous  draft 
on  human  energy.  To  meet  the  crashing 


1  "  It  was  near  noon,  when  the  Zouaves,  in  their  crimson 
garments,  led  by  Colonel  Duryea,  charged  the  batteries 
[at  Bethel]  after  singing  The  Star  Spangled  Bunm-r  in 
chorus."—  Atlantic  Monthly,  Sept.,  1862,  pp.  346. 


60  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

shot  and  shell ;  to  fight  it  out  with  such  invin- 
cible pluck  as  our  men  showed  at  Fredericks- 
burg,  Antietam,  in  the  Wilderness,  at  Coal 
Harbor,  Petersburg,  consumes  the  bone  and 
marrow  of  the  whole  constitution ;  but  when 
the  hurricane  is  over,  music  comes  in  refresh- 
ingly and  most  benign  and  comforting  are  its 
sweet  soothing  tones.  The  spirit  of  the  war- 
worn soldier  is  at  once  revived  by  it;  the 
wounded  men  forget  their  pains  beneath  its 
magic  sway,  the  dead  appear  to  sleep  more 
sweetly  as  the  notes  of  Hail  Columbia  roll  out 
over  them.1 

On  the  bloody  battle  field  of  Shiloh,  when  the 
fray  was  over,  lay  a  captain,  struck  down  mor- 
tally by  a  minie  ball.  In  his  agony  he  strove 
to  reach  a  bloody  pool  of  water  to  allay  his 
burning  thirst.  He  had  not  strength  for  it. 
The  stars  of  night  came  out.'  He  looked  up  to 
the  shining  vault  and  thought  of  God.  He 
broke  into  a  song. 


1  When  our  regimental  bands  played  Hail  Columbia,  the 
Star  Spangled  Banner,  and  other  national  airs  after  the 
battle  of  Mill  Spring,  tears  started  to  the  eyes  of  many  of 
the  rebel  prisoners  at  the  well  remembered  strains. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  61 

"  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear, 
To  mansions  in  the  skies," 

another  dying  soldier  heard  him  and  repeated 
it  —  another  joined  the  chorus,  then  another  — 
then  another,  until  from  every  part  of  that  en- 
sanguined field,  the  music  of  the  mansions  rose 
from  lips  of  dying  men  to  soothe  the  mortal 
agony  and  antedate  the  empyrean  harmonies.1 

Our  bands  used  to  play  in  the  army  the  beau- 
tiful airs  of  Mozart's  Don  Giovanni,  or  of  Lucretia 
Borgia,  and//  Trovatore,  with  marches  and  quick- 
steps from  Chopin ;  from  Flotow's  Martlw  and 
from  Gonoud's  Faust;  interblended,  perhaps, 
with  the  universal  favorites  of  the  soldier; 
Annie  Laurie ;  Her  bright  Eyes  haunt  me  still ; 
Rosa  Lee ;  Lilly  Dale ;  Marching  along ;  Sweet 
Home;  and  The  Girl  I  left  behind  me. 

The  rebel  bands  which  I  have  heard  played 
nearly  the  same  tunes,  always  substituting, 
however,  the  merry  strains  of  Dixie  for  Yankee 
-Doodle,  and  the  beautiful  air,  My  Maryland 
or  the  Marseillaise  for  the  Star  Spangled  Banner. 

Mighty  as  music  is  to  stir  the  heart  at  home,  it 
has  a  far  more  potent  spell  upon  the  tented  field. 

i  Hackett's  Memorials  of  the  War. 
9 


62  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

You  rise,  for  instance,  on  some  beautiful,  clear, 
morning;  walk  along  the  lines  of  our  brave 
army  lying  at  rest  in  front  of  Petersburg ;  you 
hear  the  various  bugle  calls  of  the  artillery 
brigades,  echoing  sweetly  through  the  forest  ; 
the  fife  and  drum  of  the  infantry  in  the  early 
drill ;  you  catch  faint  sounds  of  Dixie  from  the 
intrenchments  of  the  enemy ;  you  hear  some 
squad  of  soldiers  singing  rapturously  "  Well  all 
feel  gay  when  Johnny  comes  marching  home ; " 
or  Rally  round  the  flag,  boys  ;  you  hear  another 
section  singing  the  chorus  of  When  this  cruel 
war  is  over ;  We  are  tenting  to-night  on  the  old 
camp  ground  ;  or  you  listen  of  a  sabbath  morn- 
ing in  the  deep  wilderness,  to  men's  voices 
uniting  in  some  well  known  sabbath  school 
melody,  as,  /  have  a  father  in  the  promised  land  ; 
or  to  some  poor  wounded  soldier  in  the  hospital, 
murmuring  in  low  tones, 

"  O,  sing  to  me  of  heaven  when  I  am  called  to  die, 
Sing  songs  of  heavenly  ecstacy  to  waft  my  soul  on  high  •" 

or  hold  your  ear  to  catch  the  slow  and  distant 
dirge,  Peace,  troubled  soul,  whose  plaintive  moan, 
played  with  muffled  drums  when  some  brave 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  63 

warrior  is  consigned  by  tearful  comrades  to  his 
silent  home,  and  you  then  begin  to  comprehend 
the  power  of  music ;  the  worth  of  music  and  its 
incalculable  service  in  softening  the  horrors  of 
war;  you  feel  some  chords  thrilling  in  your  breast 
that  nothing  on  earth  had  ever  touched  before. 
But  there  were  sorrows  at  home  as  well  as  at 
the  seat  of  war.  "  Partings  such  as  crush  the 
blood  from  out  young  hearts," — wives  and 
mothers  weeping  for  the  loved  and  stricken  ones. 
Yet  the  stealing  tear  was  often  assuaged ;  the 
bitter  grief  consoled  by  the  inspiring  notes  of 
national  song.  We  are  marching  to  tJie  music  of 
tJie  Union ;  Who  will  care  for  mother ;  and 
other  beautiful  songs  which  the  war  called  forth 
broke  up  the  sad  monotony  of  many  a  suffer- 
ing heart,  and  beguiled  it  of  the  loneliness  of 
its  sorrow  and  bereavement. 


IX.   THE  DISTINCTIVE  CHARACTER  AND  FUTURE 
MISSION  OF  OUR  NATIONAL  SONG. 

In  the  formation  of  this  union,  in  the  re- 
establishment  of  this  union,  our  music  did  effec- 
tive service,  but  especially  in  the  last  tremendous 


64  A  MONOGRAM  OF 

ordeal  was  its  ministry  most  helping.  It  roused 
the  hearts  of  the  people  to  undertake  great 
things  for  the  salvation  of  the  country ;  it  called 
the  soldiers  to  the  camping  ground  ;  it  inspired 
them  on  the  weary  inarch ;  it  nerved  them  for 
the  battle  shock ;  it  consoled  them  in  their  suf- 
ferings ;  it  rose  clear  and  sweet  ,above  the  ser- 
ried hosts  of  our  invincible  army  on  the  last 
great  day  of  victory;  it  welcomed  the  noble 
warriors  home ;  it  now  rings,  as  the  flag  flies, 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  shore,  from 
Maine  to  Mexico.  Is  its  mighty  mission  over  ? 

Be  pleased  to  look  at  it.  The  leading  cha- 
racteristic of  our  country's  song  is  determined 
energy  and  exulting  hope. 

The  Russian  national  hymn  excites  in  us  the 
idea  of  mournful  grandeur  in  accordance  with 
the  gigantic  power  of  that  vast  hyperborean 
region ;  the  Marseillaise,  La  Parisienne,  Mourir 
pour  lapatrie?  and  Queen  Hortensia's  Partant 
pour  la  Syrie  of  France,  awaken  tender  and 
affectionate  memories  of  the  past;  England's 
national  anthem,  simple,2  unaffected,  passionless, 

1  Music  by  F.  Alphonse  Varney. 

-  God  save  the  King  appeared  originally  in   the    Gentle- 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  65 

seems  to  be  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  calm 
and  placid  dignity  of  that  people ;  the  Scottish 
patriotic  airs,  as  the  Land  of  t7ie  leal,  Scots  wha 
Jiae  wi  Wallace  bled,  etc.,  wanting  the  7th  or 
leading  note  and  abounding  in  minor  chords 
and  cadences,  breathe  forth  the  spirit  of  an 
Alpine  region  full  of  gloomy  caverns  which  has 
lost  its  king ;  but  the  national  songs  of  America, 
ringing  from  the  buoyant  and  elastic  spirit  of  a 
people  in  pursuit  of  a  great  destiny,  speak  out  in 
every  note,  in  every  line,  and  enkindle  in  every 


man's  Magazine,  Oct.,  1745,  on  the  occasion  of  the  landing 
of  the  pretender.  Dr.  Thomas  A.  Arne,  author  of  Arta- 
xerxes,  arranged  it  in  parts.  The  air  has  been  ascribed  to 
Handel ;  to  Henry  Carey  who  composed  the  celebrated  song 
of  Sally  in  our  Alley,  and  to  others.  Dr.  Burney  maintains 
that  it  was  composed  for  the  chapel  of  James  II.  The  mar- 
quise de  Crequy  in  her  memoirs  published  in  1844,  says  the 
music  was  composed  by  the  celebrated  duke  of  Sully  (1560- 
1641),  and  was  sung  when  Louis  XIV  entered  the  chapel 
of  St.  Cyr,  to  the  following  words  written  by  Madame  de 
Brinon  : 

"  Grand  Dieu,  sauvez  le  Roi ! 
Grand  Dieu,  venez  le  Roi ! 

Vive  le  Roi ! 
Qui  toujours  glorieux 
Louis  victorieux 
Voyez  vos  enemis 
Toujours  soumis." 

The  air  is  sung  in  Germany  and  there  called  Bnntlcs  Lied. 


66  ^  MONOGRAM  OF 

heart  the  blessed  sentiment  of  hope.  Hardly 
a  single  minor  strain  is  found  in  them.  Even 

"  Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  the  boys  are  marching, 
Cheer  up  comrades  they  will  coine,"1 

the  song  of  the  imprisoned  soldier  is  beaming 
in  every  line  with  the  celestial  radiance  of  hope. 
Our  songs  look  away  to  the  brilliant  future, 
glowing  all  over  as  the  rainbow  with  the  pro- 
phetic inspiration  of  hope ;  hope  in  human 
progress,  hope  in  the  sweet  ministrations  of 
humanity ;  hope  in  the  light  of  woman's  love 
and  beauty ;  hope  in  the  power  of  free  institu- 
tions to  sustain  themselves;  hope  in  the  ulti- 
mate triumph  of  the  right;  hope  in  the  rising 
grandeur  of  American  liberty ;  hope  in  the  God 
of  liberty. 

Now  by  the  valor  of  our  men  ;  by  the  wisdom 
of  our  chieftain  ;  by  the  ministration  of  woman  ; 
by  the  enlivening  power  of  music ;  by  the  inex- 
pressible goodness  of  God,  we  are  saved  as  a 
nation ;  four  millions  of  bondmen  have  been  set 
free ;  labor  has  been  vindicated  ;  and  the  name 
of  Yankee  rendered  everlastingly  honorable. 


Words  and  music  by  George  F.  Root. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  67 

The  walls  opposing  our  success  have  been 
demolished ;  a  land  of  promise,  where  mines  of 
gold  lie  packed  in  between  the  ribs  of  the 
mountains;  where  rivers  of  oil  flow  out  of  the 
valleys ;  a  land  locked  together  by  the  most 
wonderful  net-work  of  railways  and  telegraphs  ; 
a  land  broad,  fertile,  rich,  varied,  beautiful  above 
all  other  lands  is  our  inheritance.  The  golden 
gates  are  thrown  wide  open,  and  voices  call  us 
onward  to  possess  it- 
Has  national  music  any  part  to  play  ?  Yes, 
the  grand  old  songs  must  still  roll  on;  new 
songs  must  be  composed;  but  they  must  be 
glowing  bright  with  hope,  to  stir  the  blood  of 
the  faint-hearted;  to  cheer  up  those  that  fall 
and  falter  by  the  way ;  to  draw  the  eye  to  the 
dear  old  flag ;  to  repeat  the  story  of  the  men  of 
1776 ;  to  rehearse  the  glory  of  the  braves  who 
placed  the  flag  upon  the  domes  of  Richmond ; 
to  proclaim  the  illustrious  day  of  freedom ;  to 
make  the  tyrant  tremble ;  to  consolidate  us 
into  one  vast  free  people;  harmonious,  high- 
minded,  friendly,  hopeful,  grateful  and  aspiring. 
New  times  demand  new  music ;  let  it  come  in 
form  above  the  negro  melodies  from  the  inspira- 


68  A  MONOGEAM  OF 

tion  of  our  own  warm  hearts.  Our  grand 
national  hymns  we  write ;  our  national  airs  we 
borrow ;  and  we  take  the  best ;  but  the  genius 
of  our  country  now  begins  to  shine  brightly  forth 
in  music,  even  as  in  her  sister  arts ;  let  us  then 
have  fresh  strains  .for  fresh  developments,  for 
liberty  is  maintained  but  by  unslumbering  vigi- 
lance. Strike  then  from  the  lyre  of  freedom 
louder,  loftier  strains,  but  let  the  old  peal  on,  for 
there  is  an  avenging  note  in  that  rollicksome 
tune  of  Yankee  Doodle ;  there  is  solid  shot  and 
shell,  as  well  as  hope,  in  Hail  Columbia;  there 
is  the  invincible  pluck  of  Young  America  in 
the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  and  soldiers  march- 
ing to  these  hymns  of  liberty,  lay  wide  and 
clear  the  track  in  front  of  them,  unclasping 
every  bond  as  they  move  proudly  on  to  fling 
the  starry  flag  of  freedom,  flaming  over  the 
beloved  land. 

When  the  Union  flag  had  come  to  float  once 
more  above  the  domes  of  Richmond,  and  but  a 
few  nights  previous  to  the  assassination  of  the 
illustrious  patriot,  Abraham  Lincoln,  he  was 
called  on  by  the  surging  crowd  around  the 
White  House  for  a  speech. 


OUR  NATIONAL  SONG.  69 

Rising  in  the  balcony  and  bowing  to  the 
sea  of  heads  in  front,  he  spoke  to  this  effect  t 

"  Gentlemen,  I  cannot  make  a  speech  to-night. 
I  rather  feel  like  hearing  music.  I  want  to 
hear  my  favorite  old  tune,  Dixie.  I  always  did 
love  Dixie;  and  the  attorney-general  says  that 
we  may  have  it ;  for  Dixie,  gentlemen,  is  now 
our  own  by  right  of  conquest." 

The  bands  then  struck  up  rapturously  the 
stirring  notes  of  Dixie,  Yankee  Doodle,  My  Mary- 
land, and  the  Star  Spangled  Banner,  amid  the 
acclamations  of  the  people ;  —  and  so  comming- 
ling may  these  strains  forever  peal  in  unison, 
and  thus  serve  to  bind  this  vast  birthland  of 
the  free  into  one  perfect  and  harmonious  con- 
federation, which  under  the  hero  of  the  nine- 
teenth century  and  his  successors  shall  ascend 
to  unimagined  heights  of  political,  moral,  intel- 
lectual grandeur,  and  move  this  whole  world 
into  order  by  the  light  of  its  wisdom,  the  smile 
of  its  beauty,  and  the  song  of  its  love. 


FINIS. 


10 


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